


Dog Tags

by WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield



Series: Stay Frosty [1]
Category: Alien Series, Aliens (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield/pseuds/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying goodbye is always tough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Tags

They meet at the best possible moment. She's just been fired, he's just been promoted. He's buzzed and she's pissed, and when he appears beside her at the bar to order more beers for his table, she looks up from her glass for the first time that night.

He's good looking, has that healthy, vibrant look of someone who eats right and works out just enough to stay in good condition. She spots the tattoo on his bicep, but in the dim lighting of the bar she can't quite make out what it says. His hair is cropped, just short enough to meet military standards, but long enough to be comfortable. He looks over to her and grins, but she's not in the mood for smiling and instead just turns back to her drink. She hears someone address him as 'Private', and then hears the elated correction of 'It's _Corporal_ now.' She guessed right. He's military.

She knows military guys. She's seen enough of them around these bars, watched enough of them flirt with women, heard enough of the crappy, half drunken, slurred out pick up lines. Witnessed enough rejections to know they don't take them well.

He's gone back to his table by now, but she knows he'll be back soon enough. Marines don't stop drinking until the bars close, and even then they try to keep them open a few more hours. He'll be there all night.

When he comes back she sits up straight, pushes her chest forwards just a little bit, orders another drink just as he approaches. She leans over the bar to the bartender, her elbows just where he was going to start drumming his fingers. She's in his line of sight.

He orders his own round of drinks, and she remarks that it must be a special occasion. Normally he'd be more reserved in talking to an unfamiliar face in a trashy dive bar like this, but he's already been drinking for an hour and he's still buzzed about the promotion. He tells her he's now a Corporal of the United Americas Marine Corps, and she congratulates him good-naturedly, smiling brightly and tossing her hair over one shoulder. She asks how he's celebrating, and he jerks his thumb in the direction of the table he's just come from, where his buddies are all finishing their drinks. She leans in a little, and he swallows visibly, blinking slowly as he looks her up and down.

"Considering any other ways of celebrating?" She asks, her voice throaty from the spirit in her glass. He swallows again and licks his lips, looking her up and down a couple of times, before shaking his head. He doesn't get a chance to say anything else, though, because one of his buddies appears behind him, slapping him on the back.

"Hey, c'mon man, we're waiting on the next round!"

He chokes out an apology, obviously startled, before grabbing the next round of drinks and disappearing back to his table. Frustrated, she downs the rest of her drink, orders another, and slides a couple of spaces down the bar to the guy who's just turned up with the thick blond hair.

It's about an hour later, and she can't believe how shitty her luck has been. The blond guy politely turned down her advances, and now she's sat with only her half empty beer for company. That's when he appears at her side.

"Still want to celebrate with me?"

He's drunk - she can hear the slur in his voice and smell the alcohol on his breath, but strangely once they're out of the bar and into her tiny matchbox room and he's kissing her she doesn't care. She doesn't care when he struggles to pull his shirt over his head, doesn't care when he fumbles with the condom and nearly drops the packet. Doesn't care when he places sloppy kisses anywhere he can reach. All she cares about is the distraction.

They end up on the floor, laying sprawled out next to each other, both breathing heavily. From somewhere across the room, where he tossed his pants, she can hear a beeping. With agonizing slowness, he crawls across the room in search of it, and when he digs the small device from the pocket of his pants, he sits with his back against the wall to check it. She can see the disappointment from where she's lying.

"I have to go." He says with a guilty smile, struggling to pull his pants back on. She doesn't move, just nods and says that it's okay, that she understands. He's doing up the zipper of his jeans, and she's pulling on her panties, and for a few minutes there's complete silence in the room. When they're both dressed they stand for a few seconds, both strangely sober. After a moment's contemplation, she grabs her card from the side and hands it to him, giving an awkward smile.

"If you want to get in touch after you're done."

He thanks her, and, on impulse, he kisses her before leaving. The door slides shut behind him, and in the uncomfortable silence he leaves in his wake, she drops to sit on her bed. She realises she doesn't even know his name.

 

It's three weeks before she sees him again. She's got a job in the bar until she can find something better, and when he wanders in amidst his buddies, she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. He hasn't called, so she assumes she isn't worth the trouble. She doesn't even know why it annoys her so much - all she wanted from him was one night, which is all she got.  

He comes over after about half an hour, and leans on the bar with that little smile. "Hey."

"Can I get you something?" She's surprised at how cold her voice is, and apparently so is he. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Okay, maybe I had that coming. I meant to call you."

"Uh huh?"

"I lost your god-damn card." He admits. "I tried to keep it with me when we went into hypersleep before we shipped out, and when I woke up, I couldn't find it."

She narrows her eyes just a little. She doesn't see he has a reason to lie, but then again, after three weeks her believe that he would call had dwindled. He licks his lips and coughs, extending a hand across the bar.

"Why don't we start fresh? I'm Hicks."

She shakes his hand and tells him her name, and he grins. "Pretty name."

"I'm still mad at you."

"You've got every reason to be." He says with a grin, and after a few seconds she tells him what time she gets off. 

"You know, if you wanted to get in touch."

He laughs and promises to meet her outside the bar after her shift, and then he's gone.

 

It develops from there pretty quickly. He starts spending more and more time with her, and it becomes more and more common for her to come home to find him sprawled out in her bed, waiting for her. It's another two and a half months before he has to ship out again, and this time he's given twelve hours notice before he has to leave.

He throws his communicator onto the side and looks across to her. She's still curled up in bed - it's early morning, and her shift doesn't start for another few hours. With a sigh, he crawls back into bed with her. "They need me back."

"When?"

"I'll leave in about ten hours."

"How long for?"

"No idea." He admits, as she lays her head on his chest. "Probably not too long."

She reaches up with one hand to touch his chest, running her fingers along the cool metal of his dog tags. "Hicks, D."

He smiles. "Got any ideas yet?"

It's become a running joke between the two of them. All he told her at first was his last name, Hicks. He told her she'd have to guess his first name. She tried to check his dog tags one night while he was sleeping, but it only had his first initial. On the other hand, she now knew his blood type.

"Ugh, can't I just say I give up?" She asks, doing her best to frown at him. He laughs, shaking his head.

"No way, I ain't caving."

 

It turns out he does - as it gets close to midday he gets a little quieter, a little more serious. Not too much, but she notices the sincerity in his eyes when he pulls her in once he's dressed and ready to leave. He wraps his arms around her, presses his lips against hers and smiles gently down at her. "Dwayne."

She blinks, confused, and he explains that it's his first name.

"I never would have guessed that!" She cries, trying to wriggle around so she can punch him on the arm. He laughs and doesn't let her go, instead kissing her one more time.

When they pull back he smiles again, a little sadly this time. "Don't miss me too much."

"I'll try not to." She tries to make a joke out of it, but her words come out too serious, and he kisses her again. They both know he's not going to leave at this rate, so, regretfully, she pushes him in the direction of the door.

 

He's back within a week, and she gets home to find him half-naked in her bed, sound asleep and dead to the world. She's too tired to shower, so she simply throws her uniform in the corner of the room, on top of the pile of fatigues that have gathered there, and crawls into bed beside him, trying not to wake him.

He shifts around a little, half asleep and murmuring something incomprehensible. He's trapped half the sheets underneath him, so she simply huddles up close to him, glad for the warmth of his body, the warmth she'd missed so much.

She soon learns that he can only waste all his time with her for a few periods a year. Other than that, he's mostly stuck at the base with the rest of the marines in his group, except for at weekends and the odd night that he can sneak out.

They resort to calling each other, and even that isn't as consistent as either of them would like. The picture is grainy, and the sound occasionally breaks off, and if he's off planet the connection is lost every five seconds, but when he's doing training routines and off working jobs it's the only form of contact they have.

He's got a spare set of dog tags that he found in the bottom of his locker on the _Sulaco_ , and after one job off planet where he's gone for nearly a month he drapes around her neck. He brushes them off as just being old junk that he thought she'd find interesting to look at, but secretly he's happy when she looks at them like they're some form of beautiful jewel, and refuses to take them off. When she's still got them on half a year later he can't help the little smile on his face.

He gets a lot of shit from the other guys on the team about her. They think the startling lack of explicit porn plastering his locker is odd, and they think the small black and white photo taped to the inside of the door is even weirder. At first, Hudson thought it was an actress from one of those ancient 1950's movies that heralded those absolutely gorgeous women in their dresses and makeup.

Hicks is passing his belt through the loops in his pants when Hudson appears beside him, jabbing a finger at the photo. "Who's she?"

Hicks ignores him. It's Hudson. Everyone ignores Hudson when he's being a prick. Which is 90% of the time.

But he persists. "Who is she?"

Vasquez sweeps across the room like some kind of Avenging Angel and slaps Hudson across the back of the head. "Drop it, cabróne. Get your fucking boots on."

Hudson disappears, rubbing the back of his head. Hicks goes to thank Vasquez, but it's clear she doesn't want it. She's already back across the locker room with Drake.

Drake thought he was gay for a while. He hadn't seen the photo of her in Hicks' locker, and when they were all out on Arctura he'd noticed Hicks had been perfectly happy to stay clear of the local women.

They're back on the _Sulaco_ when he mentions it. "Yo, Hicks."

Hicks slams his locker shut. Both men are in their boxers, ready for hypersleep. "Drake."

Drake jerked his head back the way they'd come in. "Back there, you weren't up for some Arcturan pu-"

Hicks cuts him off. "Could say the same for you. You steered clear of the local delicacy."

Drake smirks. "Yeah, well I got something back on the ship, don't I? What've you got?"

Hicks ignores him, and moves off to his hypersleep chamber, counting the amount of hours until he'll wake up in her bed with her curled up under his arm.

 

She's glad to have him back, and laughs when she hears that Hudson thought she was an actress. She blames it on the fact that the photo was black and white, and she was wearing dark lipstick. He shrugs and tells her it was because she's gorgeous. She tells him hypersleep must have messed up his brain a little, and he drags her into the shower with him to prove how wrong she is.

It's been over a year since they've met when he gets the last call. It's just like any other time,  the call interrupts at the worst possible moment and the message reads _urgent_. He's apologetic and she laughs it off, helping him find his clothes and get dressed, and then they stand at her door saying their goodbyes. She kisses him, just like she normally does.

"Don't miss me too much." He says, kissing her again and touching the dog tags that hang around her neck.

"Fat chance, Hicks." She grins, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He mentions it could do with a trim, and she tells him he looks fine. With a final grin he kisses her one last time, before leaving. The door slides closed behind him, and she sinks down onto her bed, playing with the dog tags and smiling gently.

 

She isn't listed as family or next of kin, but he must have mentioned her to someone, because two weeks later she gets a call from someone in Weyland-Yutani to tell her that Corporal Dwayne Hicks died in the line of combat amongst his comrades on the planet LV-426. The man on the other end of the line apologises for her loss, giving a few more non-descript phrases that he's probably listed out to all the other people on his contact list for that day. He mentions a funeral, but she puts the phone down before she can hear the details. There isn't any point; they never found his body.

She touches his dog tags as the tears burn her eyes, and the painful lump develops in the back of her throat.

 

 


End file.
